


Radiant Eclipse

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Betrayal, Edgemaster, Edgy, Gen, Murder, Other Gritty Words, Partner Betrayal, So gritty you could lay it down in your yard and call it a driveway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richton's past remains a mystery to all but him, but what did happen in the past? What brought him to where he is today?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiant Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of backstory to Richton, an original character that I use in my ongoing series. You don't at all have to read the past works to get a good understanding of what's happening in this one, though if you want to read more of my works...:D
> 
> Radiant Eclipse and any lyrics used belong to Avenged Sevenfold  
> Richton belongs to me  
> Everything else belongs to Bethesda

Richton swiped his bare fore and middle fingers across the dirt, the earthen brown a stark contrast to the pale and calloused digits that it stained. Flipping his palm upwards, the knight examined the soil closely for a moment before bringing it up to his helmet-less face to smell. Satisfied with what he had, the human wiped the earth on his surcoat, pushing to his feet with the distinct--and none too subtle--clanking of his armor. “The Daedra have been here.”

From somewhere behind him materialized a Breton, cloaked in browns and greens to match the landscape of High Rock. His short-cropped, raven-black hair stood exposed to the elements at hand, namely wind and heavy rain, though it seemed he’d simply given up on trying to keep his hood where it would remain on his head, as only his deep umber eyes were visible above the mask he wore. The cloak he wore fastened around his neck flapped carelessly in the wind as the ranger approached the heavily-weathered and graying knight, a shortbow in one hand and one before his face, shielding his eyes from the rain.

“I would say so!” From his distance, the Breton began talking over the rain, “The trees back there are burnt to a crisp, and I’d wager a guess this clearing wasn’t always a clearing!” 

Seeing the need to speak up, Richton raised his deep and rather commanding voice, “What makes you say that?!”

Pausing in the middle of the clearing, the ranger glanced around for a moment before continuing, “See this trees over there,” He pointed towards a small cluster of trees that were both burnt and snapped near the roots, “they look like they were broken by some kind of force!”

By now, the Breton had reached the knight, and was trying to pull his hood back up once again. “If this were a betting game, I’d hedge everything on a Gate having been here, and recently, judging by the warmth of the dirt.”

“The question is...what drove them to close it?” Habitually running a hand through his matted and gray beard, Richton slid the helmet back into place and secured the straps before flipping his faceplate down. As he spoke again, his voice was clear--if a bit distant--from inside the headgear.

Pulling his gloves back on, he nodded towards the orangeish-red glow in the distance. “Come, the gate is still open.” The duo made sure their weapons were secure before heading off down the decline in the forest floor, their boots crunching against the leaves and sticks underfoot, and the pattering of rain on the steel plate falling on deaf ears.

As the two grew closer to the source of the otherworldly light, rain gave way to dry, night gave way to crimson day, the clouds laden with fire and traced with streaks of orange magma, there to signify Mehrunes Dagon’s domain over the immediate area. Lightning cracked and thunder roared, but only from behind them now did rain accompany the sounds. A surreal silence fell as they moved further and further away from the rain, and closer and closer to their quarry.

The dense curtain of forestry before the two of them parted to reveal the sight they’d both seen time and time again, the bane of the Lion Guard of High Rock, the sight which preceded the senseless deaths of the innocent and guilty alike. An Oblivion gate, guarded closely by its most staunch defenders, the Daedroth, the scamps, the Clannfear, all ambled about the scorched and cracked earth before them, patrolling in an uncoordinated but effective manner. 

Richton knelt at the edge of the treeline, surveying the scene sprawled out before him. Around the gate lay bodies, dozens at least, and all humanoid and all scorched beyond recognition--at least from where he stood. Even as the defenders of the gate patrolled, more Daedra poured from the portal between worlds, Xivali, Churls, Kynvals and all other manner of Dremora, both lords and servants armed for war against the people of High Rock. There was no doubt in Richton’s mind that this was to serve as the staging ground for a devastating attack on Daggerfall. An attack he couldn’t allow to proceed.

Giving a vague--albeit understandable--gesture to his ranger companion, the knight pulled his blade from his hip and his crested shield from his back, twirling it in his hand a moment before advancing forward a few steps, steeling himself for the battle ahead. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the Breton scaling one of the trees and perching on a branch before everything behind him was silent, left only now with the silence behind him and the crackling of the gate before him. Though he went to move, he’d hesitated, reaching into a small, reinforced pouch at his hip and pulling out a small locket. It was a bit difficult to manipulate with his rather unwieldy gauntlets on, though he managed to pop the cover open.

Staring up at him was a Bosmer’s face, groomed black hair, striking amber eyes and a radiant smile. Akatosh, she’d looked so perfect when she’d had her picture painted. It was going on thirty years now, and she still didn’t look a day older than she did when she’d married Richton--likely thanks to the longevity of the Bosmer. In the picture, she wore a forest-green dress, woven from a fine silk, as he recalled. It was simple, but in its own way, elegant, much like its wearer. On the other side of the locket was a picture of the both of them, her perched in his lap with her head on his shoulder, smiling up at his face, which stared down at her. Underneath was  written the name, in black ink, Nilawen 

Though difficult, the knight ran his thumb over the name once before shutting the locket and securing it with his index finger, dropping it back into his pouch and returning his rapt attention to the scene in front of him.

Giving a nod back to his companion, he started forward, towards the Daedra, and from behind he could hear the creaking of the ranger’s bowstring.

The arrow cutting through the air,

And then

Darkness.


End file.
